Lucy and Schroeder's New Year
by Kamiolo
Summary: Lucy feels guilty about making Charlie feel bad. Schroeder comforts her.
1. Chapter 1

Charlie walked home, Linus trotting a little behind him. They took the path along the brick wall. Charlie stopped where the houses opened up and the sidewalk gave way to the frozen pond. He leaned his elbows against the little low wall and Linus did the same and the two of them were there against the wall as though against a bank counter. Only the snow was still falling.

"What if no one likes me?"

But Linus didn't reply immediately. They both looked out over the wall and let the question simmer in the silence and the snow.

Linus finally said, "what brings that question to mind, Charlie Brown?"

"It's always on my mind."

"But why now in particular?"

"It's always best to face one's problems in the present."

Linus thought about that for a moment.

"Sartre would say you're being inauthentic."

Charlie sighed and stood up and continued walking and Linus followed with his hands in his pockets and his head in the air.

The winter was getting fiercer now and tufts of sharp, dry snow flew from the roofs in billows. The sky was flickering, now cold as steel, now grey and sickly. It was the sky that would go all of a sudden from hard blue to pure twilight. The two hurried home off in to the distance, which was fading quickly. For a long time there was only the wind, and for sight there was only the shattered light bouncing off the snowflakes, too small and furious to see directly. It was full of noise but empty otherwise and it would have been lonely if anyone had been there. Soon the light vanished and it was just a snowy evening.

At Schroeder's house. Lucy was over; Schroeder's mom had let her in again against his complaints. On the other side of the window a furious New Year's Eve storm was swirling. Upstairs in Schroeder's room. Lucy could see the storm from the single window, odd bits of white spinning in the darkness. She shivered and closed the curtains and turned and sat on the ground, leaning against Schroeder's piano. Schroeder did not look up from the other side of the piano. The music was big and warm and blocked out the storm. Lucy crossed her legs and folded her hands and rested her head against the instrument, settling in. It stayed like this for a while and Schroeder almost forgot she was there.

"Schroeder, do you ever feel guilty?"

Schroeder kept playing. It was easier to face the music than the girl behind the piano. Glancing up occasionally, he could see her dark hair above the strings. He kept playing.

"Schroeder."

No. He didn't want to talk. The music made sense, and he didn't want to let that logic go.

"Schroeder!"

Why wouldn't she stop bothering him?

_What do you want from me._

Lucy was silent for a long time, and when Schroeder finished his piece there was silence except he realized Lucy was crying. Very softly, but he knew she was crying. Schroeder walked over to the other side and sat beside her, a slight distance apart, not quite trusting her.

Still tears. This had not happened before.

"I was so mean to him."

Schroeder said nothing.

"What if he hates me now? Today is New Year's Eve."

Schroeder said nothing.

It was like that for a while, just the two of them and the storm outside. When she stopped crying she stopped very suddenly, as if waking up, and she wiped her eyes furiously like she was reprimanding herself.

"He deserves it, that Charlie Brown", she sniffed.

Schroeder did not say anything, but very gently pulled Lucy's hand away from her eyes and held it for a while as the old year ticked away.

"Do you think she meant it, Peppermint Patty?"

"I don't know. Girls never say what they mean. Listen, Chuck, I've got to go."

"Already?"

"This line is already getting too expensive."

"This telephone line?"

"Sure."

"…

But Patty, do _you _like me?"

"Sure, Chuck. Of course I like you."

"What does that mean?"  
"It means that I'm glad you exist."

"…

I thought liking someone meant holding their hand on New Year's Eve."

"It also means calling him on an expensive line on New Year's Day. I've got to go. My dad's calling me. Happy New Year, Chuck!"

"…

Happy New Year."


	2. Chapter 2

That was it. That was so stupid, so phenomenally stupid, and Charlie Brown was so absolutely done with Lucy van Pelt. He picked himself up from the muddy ground where he had been lying face steaming into the dirt and tears watering the grass like dew. He got up, all red and muddy and caked over with sweat and crying and anger, his yellow shirt now brown and his arm bruised black from the fall. It was hot and humid with a front of storm clouds on the horizon but at the moment the sun was merciless and made everything seem to boil. Charlie Brown picked himself up from the muddy ground where he had been lying and turned his body toward Lucy, angling his face and features into one hateful glance. And Lucy looked scared. For a moment she looked scared by what she had done. Charlie stormed up to her and jabbed his fist into her face with a meaty smack, connecting fully and solidly. She crumpled like a shot bird, and Charlie jumped on her and hit her again and again.

It started to rain. The rain came suddenly the way tears come suddenly, one moment dry and red, the next flooded and repentant. The rain mixed with the mud and dirt and made a cold brown slush and the two rolled around in this mud, fighting bitterly and crying all the time. It rained and rained and they fought until they were too tired to hurt each other anymore, only they wanted so badly to hurt each other that they just kept trying.  
There was a crack of lightning and then of thunder and boots squelching in the mud could be heard echoing the thunder. Linus and Schroeder and Violet came running and stumbling through the rain. But Charlie Brown was not done. She had gone too far this time-he was more resolute in his hatred of her and the world now than he had ever been before, his desire to hurt more realized than ever in his short life. And even when Linus pulled him off the flooded ground he still tried to hit someone, anyone, hit anything so that he could know why it had to be him_. _He struggled against Linus's arms and hit him hard in the face but Linus didn't let go, only dragged him through the mud until Charlie gave up and closed his eyes, letting the rain cry for him since his tears had long since run out.

There was no one at Charlie's house when Linus brought him home. He let Charlie lie down on the floor beside the stove and left after a while to go home. Violet had already brought Lucy back and when Linus got home his sister was collapsed on the sofa with the telephone straddled in her lap and the receiver in her hand against her ear. She wasn't talking to anyone, but her lips moved sometimes, and sometimes Linus could make out the words "I'm sorry".

Eventually the clock struck 7:00 pm and Charlie got off the floor where he had been lying face pressed against the cold stove. Outside was wavering on darkness, but still a radiant and redeeming flood of orange light. His telephone rang, but he ignored it; on the ground near the front door was a muddy old football. Linus had brought it home from the field, the muddy old football he'd never got to kick, that was the soul of his sunken desires. But it was so small…And outside it has stopped, at least for a while, to rain. So Charlie picked up that muddy football and walked slowly over to Lucy's house. His resolve wavered, but he kept walking, and eventually he made it to her porch while the sun was still squatting on the lip of the horizon. The door to the house where she lived was so big.

And while he stood there Violet walked out of the big front door. She was wearing a blue dress.

"Charlie Brown what are you doing here?"

Charlie Brown just looked at the football, hoping it would explain itself, but it didn't.

"Charlie Brown you should be ashamed to have hit a girl. How dare you come back here? You always, always ruin everything! No one wants to see you here. Lucy is fine—she couldn't care less about what you have to say to her!"

She brushed past him left him there on the porch. The sunlight was wavering, almost flickering. He felt a drop of rain hit his arm. He lifted up the football and threw it at the highest window, the one he knew was the window to Lucy's room. It hit sharply and directly, leaving a crack on the glass before falling back down and landing among the flowers. He turned around and left while the rain unfolded like a closing curtain.


End file.
